


The next step

by snuffymcsnuff



Series: Smuggler Meets Agent [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Just a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffymcsnuff/pseuds/snuffymcsnuff
Summary: Theron meets the in-laws. Or in this case, just the one.





	

When Mia had dragged Theron along for what she described as 'just a quick rendezvous on Nar Shaddaa', he'd fully expected to find himself an accomplice to some sort of shady backdoor deal in one of the smuggler moon's dingy cantinas. It wouldn’t have been the first time at least. Mia's rosy cheeks betrayed a cunning interior after all and these days they rarely left Odessen without eventually having to draw their guns.

What he hadn't expected was for them to end up in the busy midst of one of the promenade's many markets. People of all shapes and sizes milled past, carrying newly roasted mystery meat skewers or carelessly wrapped pieces of junk and the air was thick with smoke and steam drifting from the multitude of stalls packed closely side by side as far as the eye could reach

A perfect place to disappear, but that wasn't why they were here. Supposedly.

Mia remained cryptic as ever, a contented smile on her face and a spring in her step as they made their way through the crowd.

"Sooo, you brought me all the way to Nar Shaddaa just to taste the local cuisine? Because, I gotta tell you, been there done that."

A quirk of her lips was all that earned him. "Have a little faith, Shan. I'd never be that cruel."

"Then what? Are we recruiting a new contact for the Alliance?" Theron asked, glancing at a Hutt’s barge floating idly next to the line of stalls, Twi’leks in skimpy outfits lounged across the plush pillows covering the barge from top to bottom. Theron shook his head at the sight. Working with Oggurobb had managed to mend his perception of Hutts somewhat, but not by a lot.

At his question, Mia all but snorted out loud. "Sod it, one of these days I'm ordering mandatory vacation for you and Lana. _And_ revoking your holonet access."

Theron chuckled lowly at the mental image of Lana splayed out on a beach somewhere, fingers itching toward a non-existent holopad. Not that he was much better, to be fair. When was the last time he had gotten through a full night’s sleep without doing damage assessment in his dreams?

Before he could conjure up said memory, Mia briefly nudged him in the shoulder before jogging ahead about twenty yards, coming to rest at a junk stall manned by an old Ithorian.

Were they really just here to buy parts? He wouldn't put it past her at this point; even with a full staff at her beck and call, Mia still preferred to conduct business in person whenever possible. But parts? Those could easily be acquired through any of Hylo Viz' lackeys, eager as they were to bend the rules for some extra resources.

And as far as Theron were concerned, said lackeys were a lot more expendable than their trouble-seeking commander.

He was about to point out as much (more politely of course) when Mia waved him over. Only when he flushed practical protests from his mind did he begin to notice the immediate familiarity between his commander and the shop owner. Spread out on the counter in front of the Ithorian lay a disassembled blaster and now both he and Mia were pouring over the parts, bickering in familial tones about fried circuits and capacitors.

How long had it been since he'd come across an Ithorian, Theron thought as he jiggled his in-ear translator, the rumbled, stereophonic speech getting partly drowned out amongst static screeches before finally a decisive nudge tuned the device to filter it into clear Basic.

"-if you are so sure you know what the problem is, why don't you fix it?"

Long leathery fingers slowly picked up a screwdriver from a tool belt looped around a slim waist and pushed it across the counter towards Mia.

"You do know I basically command an army for a living now, yeah?" She mused, eyebrows raised at the tool in front of her. The Ithorian simply smiled, or at least Theron assumed so. Hard to tell with aliens that didn't have forward facing mouths.

"You won't let me forget. But I also know you can never be too high and mighty to practice fixing your weapons. Client's an old friend of mine and he's expecting it done in an hour, so, get it done?"

"Rancor's breath, fine. You're lucky I'm not in a hurry, dad."

Theron blinked. If Mia hadn't been speaking Basic, he'd have been sure his translator just glitched.

Before he could address the elephant in the room, the alien rose from his seat behind the counter and gestured for Mia to sit instead. And then he turned to Theron, that maybe-smile still on his face.

"Let's take a walk, yes? Loomia has told me so much about you, but from the look on your face, it’s obvious she has told you nothing about me."

 _Loomia_ ? Theron mouthed silently at the commander as the Ithorian lead him away from the stall. _Have fun_ , Mia mouthed back, winking at him.

“Theron Shan, did I get that right?” The Ithorian rumbled as they walked, trailing past the seemingly endless line of stalls at a much slower pace than he and Mia had held. He’d grown used to hearing his own name botched by alien tongues, but in Ithorese it sounded almost symphonic.

“Yes, that’s- that’s right,” Theron answered, brain racing a mile a minute to try to think of whether Ithorian greetings included handshakes or not, eventually settling for keeping his hands to himself. “And you are…?”

“Oddan Paas. And before you ask, no, I’m not her father.”

Again, Theron blinked. Conflicting information was usually his wheelhouse, but this was something else. “So then, what did she mean by-”

“Loomia is not mine, but she has worked for me since she was very young. So, she takes me for a parent,” Oddan explained calmly, stopping by a food stall to pick through the many colorful and oddly shaped pieces of fruit on sale.

Before Theron could protest he’d been handed a ripe piece of Jogan fruit, the gift followed by a rumbled command to ‘eat something’. And so he did, taking a bite out of the fruit as they left the stall. If this was indeed the person that raised the Alliance commander, then Theron was meeting the inlaws a lot sooner than he’d expected.

But considering that said meeting for Mia had involved a one-on-one training session with a Jedi Grandmaster, this probably ranked slightly lower on the weirdness-scale.

“If you don’t mind, there seems to be a lot I’ve missed here… she worked for you? When did she come here? And what happened to her rea- I mean, other parents?” Theron asked between bites, trying to keep the Jogan juice from dribbling down his chin and failing.

Oddan merely gave him another half-smile, heavily lidded eyes darting to and fro across the stalls, arms tucked behind his back.

“I wouldn’t mind but all of that is not for me to say, agent Shan. Loomia will tell you when she is ready.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah.” Theron murmured, frowning slightly around the last bits of fruit.

He’d grown accustomed to being surprised about all manner of personal details when it came to Mia, but that mainly involved smaller things; like offhand comments about the time she accidentally auditioned to be a cantina dancer or that she was secretly afraid of the dark. And it wasn’t like he’d shared the entirety of his childhood struggles with her, but to learn that she was keeping this much information from him was... _surprising_ nonetheless.

Back before the Alliance, before Zakuul and before the two of them, Lana had urged him to run a background check on the smuggler. And for some reason, unbeknownst to him at the time, Theron had come close to refusing the Sith’s suggestion. Against his better judgement, he’d wanted to get to know someone the “traditional way” for once.

The impulse to do so hadn’t stuck, of course. It almost never did.

In the end he’d run it anyway, but all the search had turned up were shallow recounts of Mia’s privateer work for the Republic, along with a smattering of underworld headlines involving her fight to take down the Woidwolf. There had been no evidence of a quiet life spent salvaging and repairing junk for the Ithorian still walking calmly ahead of him.

“Does she treat you right?”

“I’m- sorry?” Theron asked, looking back over his shoulder. How far had they walked while he was pondering to himself?

“That girl is an… _impatient_ sort. Not one to take prisoners, not one to stick around for long,” Oddan said and Theron could swear the rumbling had taken on a more somber tone.

“Gotta admit, she gave me that impression too, but…” Theron started, scratching the back of his head. “So far she has given me no reason to think she’s not sticking around. How about you, does she… does she treat you right?” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Me? Oh, no need to worry about me, agent Shan. No need at all.”

When Oddan suddenly stopped, Theron all but bumped into him. Off to the left, a familiar voice called out to them.

“Sampled the goods, huh,” Mia said cheerfully, slipping out from behind the counter of the stall. Somehow, they’d looped around the market without Theron noticing.

“Here. Next time, tell Uweck to treat his merchandise better, he’d just banged up the alternator real good,” she told the Ithorian, placing the now re-assembled blaster into his hands. Oddan rumbled something in reply, but for some reason Theron’s translator didn’t pick it up. And then seconds later, Mia’s lips were on his, her arms around his neck.

“Jogan fruit? Stars, dad has his traditions,” she murmured as she pulled away. Theron felt a heat rise to his cheeks, hands hovering slightly above her hips. Oddan had shuffled back behind the counter, looking as enigmatic and unruffled as when they’d first arrived.

Theron felt a little ruffled, to say the least.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

By the time the XS freighter touched off the ground in the Deucalon Spaceport, Mia had already grilled him extensively on what dirty secrets her “father” had let slip about her.

Feeling sheepish, Theron had simply shrugged.

“Oh come on, he must’ve said something. Bet it was something lame. Bet he told you I used to sleep with a night light.”

“No, but you just did,” Theron chuckled, nudging the pilot’s seat with his hip. A dry laugh from his captain followed before she very pointedly jumped to hyperspace without so much as a warning, launching the hapless agent off his feet for a few seconds.

“Alright, point taken,” he muttered, dropping into the seat beside her, only mildly more battered and bruised than usual.

Mia gave a small, half-smile, not unlike that of her Ithorian guardian. “I didn’t really _want_ to spring this whole thing on you, you know.”

“Then maybe warn me before you engage FTL,” Theron shot back playfully, nursing a sore spot on his back.

“Theron.”

“I know, I know. I’m glad you sprung it at all, for what it’s worth. It’s not like I gave you a whole lot of warning about Satele,” he mused out loud, the memory of Mia returning to Alliance HQ after being “ _spiritually guided_ ” by his thought-to-be-missing mother all too fresh in his mind.

To say that it had left both him and his commander a bit miffed would be a monumental understatement.

“You’re not kidding. Guess that makes us even now,” Mia replied with a low chuckle. Theron leaned over to press a kiss against her cheek.

“You know, you can tell me about this stuff. No offense to your dad, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

“I know. Been meaning to, I swear. Re-match?”

“Sure. More talk, less Jogan fruit next time?”

When Mia smiled at him it was no longer cryptic or incomplete, but the full, brilliant kind that made him weak at the knees.

“You bet.”


End file.
